Free Love Creeps by Amanda Filipacchi

didn’t matter how banal he was—he didn’t want her and that mattered a lot. And what was more, he made it sound like there was nothing she could do about it.
    â€œYou look smug,” he said.
    She smiled broadly. How would she react if he made a pass at her, she wondered? But of course, there was no way he’d do that as long as he thought she was his stalker. She’d have to set him straight on that one, at some point. Or maybe not. Suddenly, inexplicably, she no longer felt the twinge of excitement. She looked at him. He had lost the slight appeal he had momentarily gained.
    Back in the city, the thought of Roland and Lynn spending this time together was making Alan sick. Alan was grateful that Roland had agreed to talk to Lynn on his behalf and arranged this weekend exchange, but why wasn’t Roland calling him as he had promised?
    He tried to keep busy, went down the seventeen flights of his building verifying that all the stairwell doors were shut and went to a health food store to get some antistress herbs that might help him endure the weekend.
    Lynn and Roland had lunch in the inn dining room. They were curious about the other guests. As they waited for menus, they glanced around and saw a man and a woman sitting together at a table, but could not detect any signs of unusually pronounced bourgeoisie or anything else out of the ordinary about them. Nevertheless, they could not help feeling flattered that Max had thought they were better than that couple, even if he was a madman, even if he was lying. It was always hard not to feel flattered by compliments, and doubly so if they involved being raised above other people, and triply so if the reason for the elevation was not at all apparent.
    There were no menus. Max had no staff. He cooked mushroom omelettes for the diners.
    He unexpectedly joined Lynn and Roland at their table. Stretching out in a chair, an elbow on the table, he asked, “So, who are you people, anyway?”
    â€œOh, just relaxing for the weekend,” Roland answered.
    Max leaned over and put his hands on both their shoulders. He said, “Children, are you lovebirds?”
    â€œNo,” Roland said.
    â€œI can rectify that. If you would like me to.”
    â€œUh, we’ll think about it,” Lynn said.
    â€œI have methods and instruments that can induce the shift, in case you change your minds. So, what’s your connection?” Max asked, wiggling his finger between the two of them. “Are you relatives? Blind date?”
    â€œNo,” Roland said. Lynn noticed him looking down modestly.
    â€œIs she your secretary, your nurse?” Max asked.
    Annoyed by his sexism, Lynn replied, “I’m his stalker. He kindly agreed to give me a chance.”
    â€œReally?” Max said. “I’m a scion. I think it’s good to be blunt that way.”
    They just stared at him.
    He went on. “My parents were friends of the Kennedys and Truman Capote. I grew up in splendor, but now work in this hellhole.”
    â€œWhy?” Lynn asked.
    â€œOh, because my parents and I aren’t getting along. It’s one of those rich-family fights. You know, the kind that happens in dynasties.”
    Just then, Max was called away from the table by the other couple.
    â€œThis is the weekend from hell,” Roland said, concentrating on his food.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Roland chose his words carefully. “I am in the company of people I can barely tolerate.”
    â€œYou mean him and me?”
    â€œMm-hm.”
    â€œDo I really turn you off that much?”
    â€œYes.”
    She smiled. She felt herself melting a little, and was suddenly reminded of the assistant manager’s description of the pleasure Max got from feeling embarrassed. She felt the same way, her pores opening, a warmth invading her, her aches and pains leaving her momentarily. What else could this be but serious masochism? She knew she’d have